Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 10] Roman Hawk (12 page)

“Oh we have it but we reserve that for the tribe, not wild animals.”

As he took the proffered bowl of steaming and delicious smelling stew Marcus shook his head.  “Then that is where you are wrong.  The moment we put a fence around them they are no longer wild and they are our responsibility.” He shrugged. “As a horseman I feed my horse before I feed myself for my mount can get me out of trouble quicker that I get us into it.”

Drugi could see that Marcus, tired though he was, was nervous and he kept glancing at the rough door. “Do not worry Roman, if Chief Trygg says he will send the woman he will send her.”

“But it is dark now, why is she not here?”

Almost in answer they heard the crunch of feet on crisp, freshly frozen snow and Marcus leapt to his feet. The door opened and a relieved looking Frann stood there, a tiny pink face framed by a huge wolf skin.  As they embraced Drugi said, diplomatically, “I will just check on the animals.”

Marcus did not contradict him even though he had just returned from that duty. “Were you safe today?”

“I was but the whole village is filled with news of your bravery, how you saved Gurt and the chief.”

Marcus shrugged modestly, “I saved myself.” He waved his arm around the hut. “Will you be comfortable with this?”

Frann smiled and giggled.  “We have had bigger audiences before than the hunter and besides Drugi is the kindest man I have ever known.  Or he was until I met you.” Drugi came in and she disengaged herself. “I will make our bed over there if that is all right with you hunter?”

“Wherever you wish.  I am honoured that the two of you share my home.”

While Frann organised the sleeping arrangements Drugi prepared the food for her. They all ate for a while in companionable silence. After they had eaten Frann went to the bearskin and covered herself.  Although he was tempted to join her and enjoy the warmth and comfort of her body, Marcus wanted to know more about this man with whom he would be living for the foreseeable future and he needed to know the measure of the man. Leaning back against the wooden box which housed Drugi’s hunting weapons Marcus looked at the huge hunter. “Why have you never escaped?” He waved a hand vaguely towards the west. “There are neither chains nor bars to hold you here.”

“I quite like it here.  This is my home; the only home I have ever really known. I was taken when I was a child and my first masters were cruel. My people were the Rugii clan of the Wends and we lived by the sea.  It was a band of Cherusci who captured me and they were not good masters.  When I was sold to the Frisii I was almost dead and the Frisii, although not cruel had little use for me.  It was Trygg’s father who bought me eventually and found a use for me.  I hunt and I live by myself.  I am content.”

“Do you not miss your family?”

He looked sad and stared into the fire. “They were all killed, either in the raid or later on the journey west. I was so young I can barely remember them.” Marcus could not imagine a life where you did not remember your parents and then he thought of Marco whose father was killed when the boy was barely weaned and whose mother had tried to kill him, twice. Drugi shook himself. “What I do miss is the taste of the wondrous Kielbasa; the food of my childhood.”

“What is Kielbasa?”

“A wonderful sausage made with pork and other ingredients. As big as a man’s dick.”

Marcus laughed.  “Some men had longer dicks than others Drugi.”

Drugi looked seriously at Marcus and then glanced between his legs. “The Rugii are all big men.  As big as my dick then Roman!”

“A hearty meal indeed.”

The irony was wasted on Drugi.  “What I wouldn’t give for one of those. It is food fit for Kings, no , food fit for gods!”

“Do you know what goes into them?”

“Pork, bread, the lights of a pig and spices.”

“Well why not make one yourself?”

“We cannot get the spices.”

“Then you must ask Trygg to ask at the ports for Roman ships and Phoenician ships trade them all the time.” Drugi looked confused. “They are light to carry but valuable and Rome has the trade routes to the east. We can get hold of them from Eboracum.  They are expensive but you do not need much to make the taste of the meat change.”

Drugi’s face lit up.  “You have brought light into my life Roman. I will indeed ask for such a boon. I am glad that you were captured.”

“You will understand if I do not share your sentiments.”

“You want to escape?”

“Of course.”

“Then why have you not left now on the horse. I would not stop you.”

“You wouldn’t?” Drugi shook his head.”Well I will but for the moment I cannot.”

“The girl?”

Marcus glanced over and saw, from the regular breathing beneath the skin, that Frann was asleep. “The girl. But I also need a plan.  I could go through the Suebi lines and fight my way to the Roman lines but she would need a ship.”

“Then you have a problem for the Suebi control the all of the ports in the west and the only other port I know of, in the east, is here.”

“I will find a way. I have to return to Britannia.”

They both lay down and covered themselves with their bearskins; Drugi also had a fine wolf pelt to ensure his whole body was warm. Marcus felt warmer as he cuddled closer to the sleeping Frann. Unconsciously, in her sleep she moved even closer to him. There was a silence only punctuated by the spitting of the resin from the logs on the fire. “The hawk.  Do you control it?”

Marcus felt a sudden shiver run down his spine as though a chill had just entered the hut. “What do you know of the hawk?”

“I know that it is close to you for it showed me where to find the black stallion.  I had not seen it before and I had thought to capture it and train it for it is a fine hawk and a good hunter.  I watched each day as it killed.  It is the best hunter in the forest, apart from me, of course.” Marcus remained silent.  “When it warned you of the boar and you saluted it then I knew there was a bond. What is the bond Roman?  Tell me hunter to hunter, for as well as a being a warrior and a horseman I know that you are a fine hunter.”

Marcus spoke quietly and told the story of Macro from his birth to his death and of his death oath.”So Roman you have a weregeld with your brother.” He nodded in the dark.  “It is good to have a protector and I am glad that I did not try to capture the hawk.”

Marcus laughed.  “In that you would have failed for even when he was mortally wounded my brother found the strength to return to me and swear an oath.”

“An oath on the sword which now hangs from Trygg’s baldric.”

“Just so.”

The fire crackled and outside a hunting owl hooted. “Then I too will make an oath for, while I will never leave this place, you should return home, with your woman and with your sword.  When you are ready to return to your own land then Drugi will help you.”

“But why would you do that? You barely know me.”

“I know that you are the only other man I have ever met who cares and understands animals as I do and that makes us brothers and today I saw you risk your life for someone who cared not for you.  That makes you worthy of life and more than that a life which you choose.” Marcus did not know what to say and lay in the silence wondering about Macro, the Allfather and the Parcae who were making the whole world, it seemed, work for him. “Of course I have no idea how you will achieve your escape but it will be interesting to watch. Life is not dull around you, Marcus, Horseman of Rome.”

Chapter 7

Livius stood with Rufius and Gnaeus as they watched
The Swan
tack into the newly port at the mouth of the Tinea. The bastion anchoring the wall at its eastern end was precariously perched atop a low cliff and looked as though a high tide could wash it away. It was, however, a statement that Rome was clearly marking its northern border with a substantial stone built fort and port. Neither Rufius nor Gnaeus had needed any persuasion to join the quest and were both eager. Livius looked at them both seriously. “This is more than dangerous, it may even be suicidal. You do not have to go.  If you go you are volunteers and we cannot come to your aid should you find trouble over there.” He looked intently at the two young men; one of them was a close friend and the other one of the brightest prospects amongst the troopers.  They were both valuable members of the ala.  “I want you both to return safely.  If it is without Marcus then so be it.  It is the Allfather’s will but be careful.”

Rufius laughed, “Yes mother.”

“The Legate does not want to lose either Hercules or Furax in this rescue. Do not jeopardise those civilians jut to get Marcus.  Do not take any unnecessary risks.” He glanced from one to the other.  Rufius looked much older than Gnaeus who seemed to the Prefect to be little more than a boy. “Rufius you still have the letters from the Emperor Trajan?” Rufius nodded and patted his satchel. “You will be outside Roman territory but use them when you are in Imperial land.”

“Letters, from the Emperor?” Gnaeus spoke quietly to Rufius as Livius went to the jetty to greet the Legate who was giving his final instructions to Hercules.

“I have a letter from the Emperor authorising my actions and I am a frumentari.”

If Rufius had slapped Gnaeus in the face he could not have had a bigger reaction. “I had better watch my step then.”

“I tell you this not to impress you but to impress upon you the danger we will be in. I have done this before when I served as an Explorate. We had to operate amongst the enemy far from friends.  You will doing the same.  Where we are going no-one is our friend and we will need to watch each other’s backs constantly.”

Gnaeus wondered at his decision to volunteer and then he remembered two things, the oath he swore to the sword and then the sight of the barbarian waving at him. His honour demanded that he go.

The Legate waved to the three of them as the trader gently nudged the wooden jetty bouncing up and down on the waves and the tide. Hercules appeared, “You two ladies had better get aboard quickly for the tide is turning and I don’t want to end up on those rocks.”

The two men threw their bags aboard and jumped over the side. Julius Demetrius clasped Rufius’ arm. “Bring him back but, just as important, bring back yourselves and my ship. I care deeply for those two.” He nodded at the old man and the street urchin he had rescued from the Lupanar.

“We will.”

The two of them stood in silence watching the land disappear in the flurry of sleet, rain and snow. It disappeared far faster than Gnaeus expected and he looked up, a little warily, as the darkness enfolded them and the sailing ship’s bow bit down into the choppy sea. His reverie was broken by Hercules’ voice. “The Legate said we should sail east but there is a bloody big bit east.  Could you refine that and give me a  better direction than east?”

Rufius looked at Gnaeus.  “Gnaeus here saw the ships and he said they had dragon prows and the men were blond. That is right Gnaeus?”

“That’s right.” In the cold dark of night on a black empty sea heading into the unknown, that seemed perilously little to go on.

“Well that means east by north east then. We will try Uiteland first.  It is a peninsula.”

Gnaeus looked blankly at Rufius who laughed. “Like a long island attached to the land. It means that Hercules can sail around it. What is our story then?” Both Romans were dressed in civilian clothes and looked just like the other sailors.  They had not shaved for a few days and looked much less reputable already.

“We act just what we purport to be, traders.  We have some jet, which explains why we have been to Britannia and, just in case anyone notices that we are a bit Roman, some lemons and spices.” He pointed at Gnaeus.  “We are relying on you spotting either the men or the ships.  That will be just the start for it is unlikely they will have kept him at the port.  He will, if we are lucky, have been sold on.”

“And if we are not lucky then what?” The question almost stuck in Gnaeus’ throat.

“Then Marcus will be dead!”

******

By the time of the winter solstice, the impossibly long nights and the ridiculously short days, Marcus had finally trained Cato so that the beast was calmer in the enclosure.  This made the ponies easier to control and he had those rein trained quickly. Trygg came, with his sons, to see the ponies and they even managed a circuit of the enclosure whilst their ponies were led by Marcus.  The falls that they had suffered, confirmed Marcus’ opinion that they needed saddles. Chief Trygg had spoken quietly to Marcus as his sons had fed the ponies some oats which Frann had managed to procure. “I see that you were right about the skills and the saddles.  I did wonder if you were using that as an excuse.”

Marcus looked directly at the chief.  “I do not speak falsehoods, Chief Trygg.” He gave a wry smile. “In fact I believe you find my honesty a little disconcerting at times.”

Chief Trygg laughed. “It is true that others who spoke to me as you have done would have lost their heads already but I believe that the sisters who weave our fate, the Norns, have woven a web with you and me in it.  It is not for me to break the spell.”

Marcus felt a shiver for the Norns sounded too much Morwenna and her Mother cult for comfort. He changed the subject. “How are the bridles and saddles coming along?”

“Good. It is a quiet time for the tanner and carpenter and they enjoyed the challenge. Within a few days they will be ready. And how is life with my hunter, Drugi?  He looks happy enough.”

“We get on well and he seems to like having Frann around.  He certainly enjoys her cooking and we have much in common for we are both slaves.”

“You are slaves but not as others,” the stern look he gave to the Roman left Marcus in no doubt that he had been afforded special treatment and that he would need to reciprocate with his advice and help on all things military. He looked off to Hjarno-by.  “You were right about Lars, Roman.  He does feel anger to the woman.  You were wise to keep her close but she is still a slave.  Until she has a child Lars could rightfully claim the right to taqke her and I could do nothing about it. Nor would I want to.”